


One Small Favor

by LynMars79



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Dragoons, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Specific Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Stormblood, hygiene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 10:11:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18569281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynMars79/pseuds/LynMars79
Summary: Named Warrior of Light for once, spoilers for lvl 70 Dragoon quests. This is Tumblr's fault.Estinien's companions make him clean up.





	One Small Favor

**Author's Note:**

> There's been some silliness on Tumblr recently, dragging our favorite grumpy DragoonBro for poor grooming habits based on, y'know, half of _Heavensward_ , and I just recently replayed the _Stormblood_ DRG quests and...This Happened. It got longer than intended, as per usual.

“Before we part, I’ve a favor to ask,” Aeryn said idly as the stars wheeled over the Steppe.

Estinien side-eyed her. There was a lilt in her seemingly casual words that he recognized.

The Warrior of Light had an _idea_ in her head.

Orn Khai dozed between them, tail twitching and occasionally thwacking Estinien’s leg. Estinien remembered a similar night by a fire under the stars, with a sleeping moogle instead of a dragon, and their other companions near…

“Not even going to ask what this favor is?” Aeryn asked, feigning hurt at his silence.

“I debate it,” he admitted, throwing her a smirk.

Aeryn grinned. “I promise, it’s nothing terrible. No combat required.”

“Hmph. Is that supposed to make me less, or more, likely to decline?” He asked, though it was difficult anymore to find the old annoyance or anger.

She chuckled, checking her harp before putting it away. Her songs had been by turns silly and soothing as they had supped after the battle and reunion. Aeryn had wanted to take them to Mol Iloh--”My home on the Steppe” she had called it--but the sun was already low in the sky once they had emerged from Bardam’s Mettle, and prudence demanded they wait until morning to move on.

Estinien sighed. “Very well. What is this favor you wish of me?”

“This might sound strange.”

“By whose standards?”

“...Fair. Anyroad, on the way to the Mol’s current camp, we’ll come to a river.”

“Crossing shall not be a difficult task for we who can simply jump beyond.”

“Before that, I want you to do something for me.”

“Well spit it out, woman,” Estinien growled, though she would know there was no heat to it.

“Take a bath.”

A moment passed.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“We’re in the middle of godsdamned nowhere and you--”

“When was the last time you applied soap to that mop on your head? Or to the rest of you?”

Estinien studied her through narrowed eyes as she stared back, one dark brow raised. “What does it matter?”

Aeryn sighed and rubbed her eyes. “It matters for many reasons. Not the least of which is that you _stink_ , Brother.”

“It’s true,” Orn Khai sleepily mumbled before shifting position and falling back to his snoring. Now his tail was flicking Aeryn.

Estinien glowered at the dragonling, before looking back at his fellow dragoon. “I plan to get a proper long bath at the inn in Kugane, when next I return.”

“Great; I’m sure it’ll be expensive but worth it, assuming they even let you in the door. There’s a free river just a few malms away meanwhile.”

“You don’t exactly smell like holy rose water yourself, Sister.”

“I at least know when I bathed last. This is an honest three days’ worth of sweat, dirt, and blood. I swear I still smell _Coerthas_ on you.”

“Bah,” Estinien leaned forward to prod the fire. He knew that was exaggeration, as he had certainly had at least one full bath since arriving in the Far East.

Even if he couldn’t recall for certain what date that had been. Not that he was going to admit that out loud at this point.

Regular bathing had been a luxury even during his busy days as Azure Dragoon, and had never been a top priority; necessary, of course, but mattering less than other pressing business. If it made people avoid him, well, there had been times when he had preferred that.

“It’s one measly favor, Estinien.”

“I did you a rather large favor today.”

“Or we did one for you, depending how one looks at it.”

“Now you sound like the boy, trying to negotiate an agreement.”

“One can learn a lot from said boy. Like how to wash one’s hands.”

“You are not going to let me rest until I agree, are you?”

Aeryn shrugged, trying to look innocent. She was failing miserably.

“Very well,” Estinien sighed. “On the morrow, once we come to the river, I shall take a bath, if only to appease the Warrior of Light.”

“A proper one, too. Not just jumping in and out again right away.”

“I know how to take a bath.”

“Truly? Could have fooled me. Wake me in a few bells for my watch,” she said, turning to lean against Orn Khai’s side. The young dragon grumped, shifted, and soon settled again, curling partway around the slender hyur.

Estinien grumbled for several more minutes, at least until he was certain Aeryn was actually asleep.

* * *

  
“That’s mountain runoff,” Estinien pointed out as they stood along the river bank.

“Of course it is. Afraid it’ll be _cold_?”

He did not deign to look at her. “Just pointing it out.”

Aeryn looked at Orn Khai. “Even Pre-Calamity, Ishgard wasn’t the balmiest city in the realm.”

The small dragon nodded. “What they get for building on a peak along Abalathia’s Spine,” he replied with false dignity.

“Don’t you start,” Estinien growled. Orn Khai only did one of his amused flips.

“I am going to go ‘round there for my bath,” Aeryn said, gesturing to where the river bent around some boulders and brush. “Orn Khai, you keep an eye on him and make sure he does this properly.”

“You are asking him to _supervise_ me?”

“Yes. Also to make sure there’s no peeking,” she teased as she walked away.

“Bah! As if I would! Scrawny little…”

She merely laughed before vanishing from sight. He would be more concerned if she wasn’t, well, _Aeryn_. He was fairly certain even nude she could handle any threats that came her way.

And there was the unwelcome thought of his fellow dragoon naked, no thank you, as he set about to pulling off his gear. Aeryn occupied that same heart space a family member might, though he would not admit such out loud, _ever_ , and would jump far away if it ever came up.

“Don’t forget to clean that armor! She was very particular about that, for some reason,” Orn Khai said as he settled on a wide, flat rock.

Estinien wondered if that count-to-five trick actually ever worked for anyone. “I am certain she was. You could assist me.”

“No thumbs,” the dragonling immediately replied. “And I’m not scrubbing you; I might get sick.” He stretched and adjusted his wings for maximum sun-soaking.

Estinien thought of dumping mountain water on him.

* * *

  
He was not going to admit to either of them how much better he felt.

The sun was much higher in the sky and the day warmer, as their small party spent a couple bells cleaning gear and themselves. Even Orn Khai eventually dove in--after Estinien had gotten out, and was beginning to dry, of course, only to be icily doused once again by the dragon’s splash.

Leaving Orn Khai to play in the water, Estinien wandered nearer to the bend their companion had vanished behind. His armor was still drying, leaving him feeling exposed in but a spare tunic and pants, wrinkled from too much time shoved in the bottom of his pack. At least they were relatively clean. “Aeryn?”

“Come on ‘round,” she called back. “Just putting my hair up.”

He stepped around the rocks, finding her sitting on another that jut out over the water. She was likewise in a light tunic and a pair of shorts, armor drying nearby, her rapier nearer at hand than her lance. She was braiding fine, dark hair along the top of her head from ear to ear, keeping longer strands loose but well away from her face. He sat next to her and watched.

“You look much better,” she said.

“Thought your complaint was how I smelled?”

“That’s better too,” she said with a grin. “Waiting for your hair to dry before you brush it?”

Estinien shrugged. “I ran my fingers through the worst tangles, it’ll do.” When she didn’t reply he chanced a look to find her staring, grey eyes wide and fingers paused on her own head. “What?”

“Matron’s grace,” Aeryn said, quickly finishing the braid. Even watching, Estinien wasn’t quite sure _how_ she completed it and considered that its own form of magic, like many cosmetic choices he barely comprehended or saw the point of. “This explains much.”

“What are you on about now?”

“Just hold still,” she said, grabbing something from her pack before scrambling behind him.

“Aeryn, what--” Her hand on his shoulder kept him from turning, or standing.

“Hold still. Gods, Aymeric was _not_ jesting when he said you were hopeless; I owe him an apology,” she muttered.

Then she began brushing his hair. “Ow! Hey!” He tried to reach back and smack her hand, or at least the brush, away.

She rapped his knuckles with the brush instead. “Don’t be a child. It’s just a little pulling; if you took care of this rats’ nest, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“It’s just hair,” he groused, as she pulled his head yet another direction. “Perhaps when I go--ow!--to Kugane, I shall have it cut off.”

“That might not be a bad idea,” she replied. “I could try to trim some of these damaged ends--were some of these _burnt_ shorter?”

“What do you think?” He kept his tone as dry as possible.

She made a small disgusted sound in response and continued to brush. He resigned himself to the grooming, and eventually it did stop pulling so badly--and even started to feel somewhat nice.

Not that he was going to tell her that.

“All right; I’ve done what I can for now,” Aeryn finally said with a sigh. “At least I have better ideas what to get you for Starlight this year.”

“Hrm?”

“A grooming kit. Brush. Comb. Razor. Maybe a year’s worth of soap and a shaving cream that doesn’t smell like dzo piss.”

“Now you are exaggerating.”

“Honestly, you’re a knight of Ishgard--”

“I _was_ a knight of Ishgard. I retired, remember?”

“--You ought to take some pride in your appearance. What would Alberic say?”

That made him wince. “As long as I was presentable for those pompous ceremonies the Congregation so enjoys, he did not care much.”

“Uh-huh. I’m telling him you said that and then we shall see.”

“Must you?”

“Well, you certainly aren’t telling him,” she said, unable to keep the reproachment out of her tone.

“...Soon.” When he stopped feeling guilty for nearly killing the man who was a second father to him, if he had not been stopped by Aeryn. He had tried to kill her a few times, too, by this point. She did not blame him, or at least forgave him, so perhaps…

Estinien shook his head. His hair moved in smooth waves with the motion. It was strange.

Aeryn sighed and put her simple grooming kit away. She did not bother with further cosmetics, which Estinien had always appreciated. Even some of his own knights dragoon, men and women both, spent too much time fussing with such in his opinion. Who could tell beneath their helms?

“We can be in Mol Iloh in a few bells,” Aeryn said. “Orn Khai! Are you ready?”

“Yes! The Crimson Dragoon’s armor is dry as well!” he called back.

“It had better be, and not dripped on by little dragons!” Estinien shouted. Orn Khai only laughed in response.

“Estinien.” He turned and looked down, finding her looking up with a small smile. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Mostly, humoring me,” she said wryly.

“Hrmph. ‘Tis... _possible_ you were right, and it was past time for a bath.”

“Mm-hm. Well, I feel less bad introducing you to the Mol.” She was teasing him again.

He grunted and turned away, but before rounding the corner, he stopped. “...Thank you.” The rest of the words refused to pass his teeth; they seemed too much. _For caring enough to make me_. How wretchedly sappy. It was something Aymeric might say; perhaps that was why it came to mind. If in doubt, _‘mimic Aymeric’_ had long been the strategy for getting through uncomfortable social situations--which was most of them.

“You’re welcome,” she replied after a pause.

He nodded once and rounded the bend to where he had left his own gear.

To find his armor scattered, his pack hanging from a scrawny tree limb a few yalms away, everything he carried in a clean but spread out mess, with Orn Khai giggling in the air across the river. The only thing he hadn’t touched--wisely--was the spear.

Estinien sighed, but couldn’t help a smile in response to the dragon’s laughter. It was nice to have some companionship, though also nice to know it was _temporary_ , if it was to be this sort of day. He would let the little dragon have his prank.

Besides. If they tussled over it, Estinien would need another bath afterwards, and once was already quite enough.


End file.
